


Blow Me

by rustedcrimson



Category: The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:38:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustedcrimson/pseuds/rustedcrimson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basil's trying to work on a painting but Henry has another idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blow Me

“Basil, you’ve been painting that building for the at least five hours,” Henry said, tapping his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair.  
“Mmhm. Windows, Henry. Lots of windows. Glass. There’s lots to do.”  
“Not for me,” he said dryly.  
“Go out,” Basil suggested, waving his hand nonchalantly without looking up from the canvas. “There’s plenty to do out there I’m sure, you’re-” He paused, biting his lip and smudging some paint away with his fingernail. “Yes- that’s good- I think I’ll do all the windows like that. I’ll need to fix some of course but-”  
Henry groaned, falling back onto the couch and sighing loudly. “How long is this going to take, damn it!”  
“I don’t need you here, you know,” Basil began, to the audible displeasure of Henry. “Just head out, I’m sure you can find a party, and if not, you’ll just start one yourself. You always do. You hate being cooped up anyways.”  
“You’ve been so busy lately though, I want to spend time with you,” Henry said, hopping up off the couch and running his fingers along Basil’s arm.  
Basil leaned closer to the canvas, tilting his head to the side. “I think that line’s crooked,” he muttered, dipping his brush into a pan of gesso.  
Henry wrapped his fingers around Basil’s, tugging the paint-brush out of his hand. Basil hardly noticed, still squinting at the array of lines on the canvas. Henry slid his lips along Basil’s neck, fingers drifting down the front of his shirt. Basil was still focused on the painting.  
“Basil.”  
“Just a moment, Harry.”  
He wrapped his arms around Basil, slowly pulling him away from the canvas, towards the couch.  
“You’re tense Basil- you can go back to painting later, you really ought to relax.”  
“Maybe...”  
Henry slowly laid Basil face down on the couch, straddling him, hands on his shoulder-blades, lips on the back of his neck. He ran his fingers lightly along Basil’s spine, then pressed down, rubbing circles into the painter’s lower back.  
“I didn’t know you could be so gentle.”  
“I’d be anything for you,” Henry murmured, digging his thumbs into a portion of tensed up muscle.  
“Oh my God- that’s so much better, I’ve been sore there for-”  
“Shhhh.”  
Basil rolled over, pulling Henry down to kiss him.  
Henry pressed his lips to Basil’s cheek. “You know what will really relax you?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.  
“I’m sure I’m about to find out.”  
Henry smirked, slipping his hands down along the sides of Basil’s torso, fingers tracing the buttons on Basil’s trousers.  
“This should get your mind off that painting,” Henry said, straddling Basil, whose pants were now tugged down to his knees. He pressed his hands against Basil’s hips, mouth inches from his cock. Basil could feel his breath, then his lips, then tongue-  
Henry moved his hands down onto Basil’s inner thighs, thumbs following the curve in the muscle. Basil arched up, paint-stained fingers gripping the couch cushions.  
“I knew that tongue of yours was good for something,” he sighed, eyes squeezed shut.  
Henry looked up, smirking. “What, you don’t like when I use it to talk?”  
“Not right now!”  
Henry slid his fingers teasingly over Basil’s hipbones. “I thought you wanted to paint. I suppose I’ve been distracting enough. Maybe I should let you get back to work.”  
“Oh, come on Henry.”  
“I don’t know Basil,” Henry said, leaning back on his palms, “those windows won’t paint themselves.”  
Basil sighed heavily. “God, you’re so annoying sometimes.”  
“Maybe- but you seemed to be enjoying me quite a bit just now,” he teased, grinning.  
“Yes- let’s go back to that.”  
Henry slid his mouth back over Basil’s cock, hands working the base. He pressed his tongue under the tip, then back down the shaft, hands keeping a steady rhythm. Basil began to thrust upwards, curling his toes, feet stuck under the edge of the couch cushion. He moaned, fingernails digging into Henry’s shoulders. Henry arched up, letting Basil tug on his hair, pushing himself deeper, tilting his head back and gritting his teeth. Henry established a quick rhythm, watching Basil squirm and moan, head tilted down, back arched. His lips were pressed tight to the base of Basil’s cock, thumbs rubbing circles along the man’s inner thighs.  
Basil wrapped his hands under the cushions, gripping so tightly that the pads of his fingers went numb. His legs were intertwined with Henry’s, spine quivering as he held it arched until he climaxed, collapsing back onto the couch, panting.  
Henry kissed up along Basil’s torso, tongue lingering along the edge of his jaw.  
“Can I talk again?” he asked, running his fingers through Basil’s hair.  
“As if I could ever really stop you,” Basil replied, rolling his eyes.


End file.
